Tunnel Vision
by T'Pring
Summary: Sheppard's in a cold dark place, literally. Rodney must guide John through a monster-infested tunnel before either broken ribs, killer cockroaches, or radiation kills him. Written for Sheppard H/C Winter Fic Exchange 2014 over on LiveJournal.
1. Chapter 1

"_Sheppard. Come in. Can you hear me? Sheppard_."

The soft hiss of static and the persistent, concerned words crept slowly into John's brain.

"_Sheppard. Come in_."

John realized he was cold and wet before he realized he was awake. Both sensations seemed to be centered on his right side. He concentrated for a moment and decided he was lying in a puddle. Why the hell was he lying in a puddle?

"_Sheppard. Dammit John, answer me._ _Sheppard_."

_I should at least sit up,_ he thought, though it took longer for the idea to reach any muscles. With a motion that was more of a flop than any coordinated effort, he pushed off the cold wet surface he was lying on and discovered something else. His right side hurt. A lot.

John gasped and slammed his right elbow into his ribcage to press against a growing ache that was bordering on breath-crushing pain. His shoulder sent out an equally loud protest. A ragged shout of angry misery tore from his throat and echoed wetly in the cold air around him.

"Sheppard. Come in. Can you hear me? Sheppard."

This time the words hissing insistently in his ear triggered an instinctive reaction. Still not fully awake nor in control of the pain, he touched the receiver in his ear.

"Rodney."

"Oh thank God! Sheppard, we've been calling for fifteen minutes. Do you realize how worried we've been? Why the hell didn't you answer? Can you tell us where you are? I mean, I know where you are in the geographical sense, but where _are_ you?"

The words washed over John with little understanding, but they were comforting. The tenuous connection to a friendly voice relaxed the tension that was twisting his broken shoulder and he was able to take a few shallow breaths and control the pain. Feeling slightly more awake, he tu ned back into the chatter in his ear and realized they had gone concerned again.

"Sheppard? Are you still there?"

Another, softer and gentler voice chimed in, "John, please answer. We are very concerned. Can you answer?"

"Here. I'm here. Just groggy. Stunner?" John managed.

The tone went relieved again and it was Rodney who answered, though John had been hoping to hear more of Teyla's calming voice. "We think that yes, you were probably stunned or drugged by the Monarkians before they dumped you into the waste disposal system that beamed you to your current location."

John struggled to remember anything of what had happened before he woke up cold and in pain. They were visiting the Monarkians who had avoided their attention for almost four years by using the Ancient technology of the outpost they were occupying to lie low. Like the Tower dwellers, they had abused the power brought to those few who had the Ancient gene that allowed them to control the facility. The ruling class used their advantage to design a pretty little society of creature comforts and some not-so-bad art, but while they hadn't gone as far as starving the "un-Lantean" class, there was no doubt as to who ruled who. The remaining population of normal people were slaves in a palace, but slaves none the less.

At first, the ruling class had been happy when John and Rodney showed up. They saw the advantage of the expertise they could tap into. But the warm fuzzies went sour once John would not permit the locals to abuse their un-Lantean teammates. Things had gotten even frostier when John refused to talk down his nose to the servants.

"Waste…disposal…?"

"They threw you out with the trash." Ronon's voice rumbled with amusement.

"That's what I said," Rodney continued, sounding testy. "It sent you to wherever you are instead of the incinerator. Pretty lucky really. Apparently the facility has failsafes that detect complex living matter to keep kids from flushing their pet turtles or something. We have your transponder signal on our scanner. You're about 10 meters below the East edge of the outpost. It looks like a tunnel. I'm sure we can guide you to an exit as long as the passage isn't blocked. What's it like down there?"

John had been simply breathing and resting so the question caught him by surprise. He looked around and saw…nothing. It took him another moment of blinking hard to process that observation.

"I can't see!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if there isn't any lighting. The tunnel looks like a remnant of the original construction. Do you have a flashlight?"

"Yeah." Panic faded as quickly as it had flared. John patted his vest with the hand that wasn't attached to a broken shoulder and felt the reassuring bump of his small light in its usual pocket. He wrestled it out and finally twisted on the bright beam. It was like throwing a pebble into the Grand Canyon. The darkness around him was so thick it seemed to swallow light up.

"It's a tunnel, alright," John said aloud to reassure his friends and soothe the creepy feeling that was tickling the hairs on his neck. "About three meters by three meters. Looks old. Concrete. Lots of moisture."

He swept the beam over the ceiling that was slimy with mold and then the floor that was equally damp with several puddles of accumulated water. His right leg was still marinating in one. Closer inspection revealed a lumpy panel of bronze geometry near the top curve of the tunnel that was probably the source of his arrival.

"I don't see any fixtures. Other than the transporter I don't see any tech at all. Just a lot of dark tunnel and slime."

John pushed with his heels to scoot the few feet it took to prop his back against the tunnel wall. Leaning took some of the pressure off his sore shoulder and he took a tentative deep breath. A sharp ache stopped the experiment and confirmed what he'd feared – definitely a broken rib. Despite the failsafes, he'd obviously rematerialized several feet above the ground and – unconscious at the time – had hit the ground hard on his right side. A lump of tender flesh above his right ear supported the theory.

Rodney was talking again, but John's self-inventory was telling him he needed to get the hell out before all those aches and pains ganged up on him.

"How far to the exit?" he blurted into the mike, interrupting Rodney's speech about the tunnel's construction.

"A little under three Kliks to the North or five to the South. The tunnels meander."

"Meander? Great. Well, shorter sounds better. Which way is North?"

John decided to work on standing up. He'd managed to get his knees under himself before he realized that Rodney hadn't answered.

"Rodney, which way?"

"It's not that simple."

John felt his face flush in irritation. "Why not?"

Teyla answered, obviously attempting to rescue Rodney from the snap in John's voice. "Rodney's sensors indicate that there are other…creatures in the tunnels."

"Okaaaay? And…"

"And, the panel Rodney is at indicates that the tunnels are irradiated regularly."

"Irradiated?" That information didn't seem to fit with the previous statement in John's mind. So much for saving pet turtles.

"And that the next burst is expected…soon."

A shiver ran down John's spine. "How soon?"

Rodney answered. "An hour. Probably."

John considered. An hour to walk 2-3 miles was a piece of cake, normally. But his side was talking to him and he had to consider obstacles that might slow him down. "Shorter still sounds better."

"We thought you would say that. But John, the North tunnel has a greater concentration of life signs. Some of them quite large. Can you run the longer route instead?" Teyla's voice continued to betray concern.

John closed his eyes, feeling the trap shut. The safer route was longer, the shorter route more dangerous. Maybe option three was called for. "Any chance of just shutting off the irradiation cycle?"

"Rodney thought of that. The system's on automatic and the control panels haven't been initialized."

Rodney butted in with, "All I can access from here is the maintenance logs. I don't know where the main controls are and we aren't very welcome here at the moment to go asking. "

"Are you in danger?" John heard his own voice go tight.

"We are safe. When you were attacked, the Monarkians attempted to forcibly remove us from the outpost. Ronon convinced them to let us remain long enough to search for you." Teyla's voice sounded grim, but there was a hint of self-satisfaction.

"Convinced?"

"I stunned them and we ran," Ronon summarized and John could only chuckle, imagining the scene.

"OK, so maybe the long way after all. But that means I'd better get started. Which way is South?"

"Walk ten paces in any direction and I'll tell you to either keep going or turn around."

John just nodded to himself and took a slow breath in preparation. He tapped off the mike, braced his good hand against the wall and lunged to his feet. He almost didn't stay there. His shoulder shrieked. There was a grinding in his side as the motion shifted broken bone against bone. Despite the damp chill, he could feel cold sweat on his brow. Another long groan of protest escaped his lips.

He planted his back against the wall to remain standing while he mastered the pain, again. He was going to need to immobilize that shoulder, or every step would be excruciating. He began to tug on his belt with the thought.

"Sometime today would be nice, Sheppard," groused Rodney over the radio.

John gathered his courage, pushed off the wall and took ten steps to his right. The tenth was no less painful, but he at least felt steadier. He put the flashlight in his mouth and finished tugging his belt out of the loops while he waited for Rodney's next instructions.

"Good. You guessed right. Keep going. We will make our way to the exit from up here to meet you."

"Sounds good," John replied, turning the radio back on. "See you there."

There was a pause. "John, are you alright?" Teyla asked with a hesitancy that set off warning bells. He was hurting but he didn't think he sounded that bad. Had his team been standing next to him, he would have been grateful for their help and concern. Instead, he was alone in a dark tunnel. Even if they came and found him, he'd still have to make the trip out. In the split second of consideration after the question, he made a decision.

"I'm fine. Just a little woozy from the stun." Which was technically true. The stun had sent him flopping to a concrete floor, which was why he was moving slowly.

There was no answer, but there were no arguments either. John finished making a sling out of his belt, then tightened it down so that it would keep his right elbow and shoulder as still as possible.

"Keep your eyes open," Rodney said at last. "I'll watch the scanner when I can. Check in every five."

"Got it."

"You know you're on the clock, don't you?"

"I remember, thanks." He had an hour to find the exit or he'd get fried by the Ancient version of a bug zapper. That was the kind of thing that was hard to forget.

"Then why aren't you moving?"

John cursed under his breath and started walking.

"That's better. And John?"

"_What_ Rodney!"

"Good luck."

John grinned despite the cold air, creepy tunnel and threat of imminent irradiation. "Thanks."

* * *

><p>Rodney closed the channel and looked at Ronon and Teyla. Their expressions mirrored his own feelings.<p>

"He doesn't sound all that good," he summarized.

"Responses are off," Ronon agreed.

"Perhaps it is as he says: he is still sluggish from the effects of the stun or drugs that the Monarkians used to incapacitate him." Teyla's tone contradicted the optimism of her words.

Rodney jerked his head in a quick negative. "His voice is breathy. Like that time the castaway Wraith played kung fu with his ribcage. He had two cracked ribs that time and could hardly walk off the jumper after the ride home."

"Should we force him to tell us?" Teyla wondered, but Ronon was already shaking his head.

"Doesn't matter. Can't help him. If he doesn't want us to badger him about it, then let it go."

Teyla bit her lip, but finally nodded. "Then let us go now to the exit. If John cannot complete the journey, then we will have more time to enter and get him."

"But I can monitor the sensors better from here," Rodney protested. He not only disliked the idea of leaving John to the dark without the benefit of his help, Rodney really disliked the idea of entering it himself.

"McKay," Ronon's rumble was full of warning.

"OK, ok. I'll link my hand scanner to this console, but it won't show as much detail."

They were in a small, unused research lab at the edge of the outpost. The cramped, bronze and teal space was reminiscent of Atlantis and had offered a place of privacy to conduct their search for John. The Monarkians weren't exactly hunting them, but they'd decided it was best to remain out of sight, out of mind. Rodney linked the devices, then tuned his hand scanner to search for life signs outside their own door.

"Clear," he whispered to annoyed looks from Ronon. As he followed his braver, strike that – better armed teammates, Rodney flicked one last glance back at the console that connected him in some small way to his friend – a connection he was severing.

"I hope you're not lying too much for us, Sheppard, he muttered to himself. Because I have a bad feeling this is going to get worse before it gets better."

* * *

><p>John walked South, he assumed. The dark of the tunnel pressed in all around him. The small splash of light that his flashlight threw was so pitiful, and the slimy floor under his feet so shrouded in shadow that he had no sense that he was moving at all. He kept the light fixed ahead, scraping the tunnel from side to side. Rodney had said "fewer" creatures, not "no" creatures.<p>

The sling helped his shoulder as he walked. Still, every step jolted his damaged side, despite the precautions. The exertion was also threatening to make the broken rib more of a problem. He'd have to work to move quickly without driving up his breath rate. He pressed his elbow hard against his side. The weird always-moving light was making him feel dizzy. The cold air smelled like moldy nickel.

Every now and then, the plink of water dripping from ceiling to floor echoed loudly in the endless dark. When a soft scrabbling joined the intermittent drips, he froze and waved the light wildly around him. The beam didn't catch even a hint of movement.

"Take it easy, John," he muttered to himself. "Probably just your imagination. Or something in the dirt outside of the tunnel." He resumed walking, but couldn't shake a feeling the prickled the hairs on the back of his neck. The constant adjustment from pitch dark to bright reflections of flashlight off puddles was making him see spots– phantom blue-green orbs glowed in the blackness ahead.

"Wait a minute."

He blinked hard, covered the light for a second, blinked again. The tunnel ahead _was_ covered in spots. As his eyes adjusted, the orbs seemed to grow brighter. Cautiously, he crept forward towards the nearest spot until it was right over his head. He craned his neck to stare. A delicate circle of lacy light glowed coldly like a snowflake made out of blue flame.

After examining it, he shined his light on it and saw that it was something like mold, or maybe lichen. It spread over the slime what covered the surface of the tunnel, a pale lily pad on a greasy pond.

"Why are you just standing there?"

John jumped at Rodney's sudden outburst in his ear, his heart racing from more than the startle. He needed to keep moving. He was "on the clock". He kept getting distracted, and that was starting to bother him.

"There's glow-in-the-dark moss down here," he replied to distract Rodney from his transgression. He also started walking again, faster than before.

"Oh. That's interesting. Bioluminescence isn't common, but not unheard of in species we've encountered in this galaxy. Not that we've explored even a fraction of a percent of it, but if there's a lot of moisture, I can see fungi or bacteria evolving in that direction."

"There's moisture all right," John replied with a splash through a particularly deep puddle. "Could these be the life signs you were worried about?"

"No, the outpost sensors were detecting more complex life signs than moss."

"Oh."

"Have you seen anything…alive..yet?"

"No. Just glowing glowing moss and an active imagi… Holy Crap!"

John yelped as two of the floating points of light detatched themselves from the blackness and came hurtling right at him. He flung himself backwards, scrabbling for his sidearm, only then remembering that his arm was tied down to his side and that it hurt like hell to do what he was doing. Still back pedaling, he shoved the light awkwardly into his right hand and drew his combat knife with his left.

The scratching sound was back, growing louder as the points got closer.

John twisted his wrist in the sling, brandished his knife and pointed both at the oncoming terror. For an instant, the beam fell on a cockroach the length of his fingers, then the next second it and the glowing lights were gone. John kept the beam on the place where it disappeared, took a step closer.

Only when he was right underneath, did he finally see a hint of shiny brown shell buried under the layers of mold and slime. When he lowered his light, sure enough, two points of cold blue waved ever-so-slightly at the same spot.

"John, dammit, would you please answer?"

John became aware of Rodney again and chuckled in sudden relief. "I'm fine. Just scared the crap out of myself. There are glow-in-the-dark bugs, too. At least the antennae glow. This guy that startled me is about the size of a rhinoceros cockroach."

"Well are you standing around watching it? Because while it seems to have adapted to regular bursts of the high energy end of the electromagnetic spectrum, I seriously doubt you have."

"Good point."

John walked for a while longer expecting more nagging from Rodney, but his friend seemed to be satisfied that he was moving. The spots began to cover more of the surface of the tunnel as he continued. There were also fewer puddles. His feet began to crunch, like he was walking over sand, and he realized that it wasn't less humid, there was just more dirt and grit to soak up the water into mud.

After another twenty or more steps, the flashlight beam fell on a pile of dirt and debris rising gently off the floor of the tunnel. John stopped, closed his eyes.

"Rodney?"

"Yeah, John. What?"

"I've got a problem here. The tunnel has collapsed. The cave-in fills the whole passage." John wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his grimy hand. "I can't go any further this way."

He didn't even bother to climb the pile in the slim hope that there was a way through, he just turned around and started walking back the way he'd come. He looked at his watch. Had it only been ten minutes? It felt like he'd been walking in thick soup forever. Ten minutes to simply get back to where he'd started. He had almost the same distance to walk as when he'd made the decision to go South, but now had only 50 minutes tops to do it.

And the other way had even bigger creatures to worry about.


	2. Chapter 2

Rodney stopped mid-stride in the hallway which caused Teyla and Ronon, hard on his heels, to bump into him. They were skulking through corridors in the outskirts of the outpost, trying to avoid the Monarkians. Like Atlantis, the lumpy, decorative bronze corridors allowed for many nooks and crannies to duck into when the occasional local did happen to pass and they'd remained unseen, so far.

"He is turning around?" Teyla demanded, doing that thing where she made sure everyone was on the same page, especially when it involved the safety of one of her teammates.

"He'd only made it about a half kilometer. He'll have to backtrack that and make his way to the North exit."

"You said the North path wasn't safe," Ronon stated. The tone was mild but his posture was accusatory and he kept looking over Rodney's shoulder instead of at him, which was getting annoying.

"I also said he should hurry so that we had time to work through hiccups that came up. He's way off pace. It's like he's just on a Sunday stroll down there." He was looking at his scanner again as he spoke. John's dot was moving North…slowly.

"I fear he will not make the exit in time. Can we get to the North exit in time to go in after John?"

"We'll have to go through a section of the outpost that's more populated, we'll have a harder time staying out of sight, but we should definitely reach it before John. We have the luxury of a direct route. And I think we could crawl faster than he's walking." The last came out as a growl as he glared again at his scanner screen.

"Then let us do so." Teyla's command left no room for argument, so Rodney was surprised when Ronon barked out a harsh, "Wait." And then, he was sprinting down the hall. Dumbstruck, Rodney could only watch as Ronon skidded to a halt several yards away in front of one of those dark crannies, gun pointed, posture hostile.

A squeak of fear preceded Ronon snatching into the crevice and pulling out a Monarkian by his overly-starched collar. Teyla and Rodney jogged over to join Ronon and his captive, who had his hands up and was hunched over in terror. The man was old, grey-haired but healthy looking, as were all of the Monarkians.

"I am Mieka. I am Mieka. I wish no harm to you."

"They why have you been following us?" Ronon growled. The man answered at once, as if it would never occur to him to disobey a command.

"You are seeking Colonel Sheppard. I overheard you talking when you escaped Ashran's security pigs. I meant only to follow you until you found him so I could…thank him."

Rodney hadn't heard any of the servant class – for that is what Mieka's uniform and deference marked him as – speak so harshly of the ruling class. Ronon let go of the man's collar and stepped back, his expression calculating. "Thank him for what?"

"He… I… It was because of me that the Colonel angered Ashran and the other so-called _Lanteans_. He was showing me how to use the control panel that monitors the solar system around our outpost and revealed that it only takes a Lantean's touch to initialize most of the outpost's controls. Anyone can work the technology once it is initialized."

"Why did that piss them off?" Ronon asked, as perplexed as Rodney felt and Teyla looked.

"We have been told for generations that only Lanteans can control the vast technology of our home. The Colonel, unwittingly I believe, exposed an untruth that has enslaved three-quarters of my people for generations."

"That _would_ piss off the local authorities," Rodney agreed with a sigh.

"Ashran's _authority_ is built on a lie," Mieka's voice was bitter, but he twisted his hands together as he added, "but I feel shame that the Colonel was attacked because of me. I only wished to make sure he was recovered and to express my regret and thanks. Have you discovered where the disposal device sent him?"

"Yes. We know where he is, but he is still in danger and this conversation is slowing us down." Rodney decided he was done with the locals, hostile or friendly. He raised his scanner, planning to move on, but Mieka wrung his hands again and looked stricken.

"What danger does he face? Can I help? I have lived in the outpost my whole life."

Ronon chuffed and Teyla looked similarly eager to move on. Rodney turned away from the native, pointing his scanner in the direction of Sheppard's North exit. John was still moving slowly, too slowly. If only they could tell him to just sit tight and wait for them. Wait! Maybe they could.

Rodney whirled around and grabbed a startled Mieka by the shoulders. "Do you know where the disposal system control consoles are located?"

"I… am not familiar with that function of the outpost. We do not have any techmasters assigned to waste control. It just seems to work."

"The systems are on automatic. The consoles have not been initialized. They would likely be with other systems that handle routine functions like water purification, environmental controls, HVAC, that sort of thing. At least that's how they're organized on…our outpost."

Mieka looked like he was thinking hard as Rodney explained. A sudden flash of eagerness crossed the wrinkled face. "My grandson is assigned to a techmaster who monitors the outpost's water supplies. He is regularly sent to the purification tanks to perform maintenance as they require constant manual adjusting."

"Tell me about it," Rodney muttered. Half of his maintenance requests came from problems with water supply on Atlantis. Too hot, too cold, too salty, too purple…

"Noalm may know where this console is you speak of," Mieka finished.

"Can you take me directly to the lab or facility where they work?"

Mieka nodded.

"OK." Rodney blew out a breath turned to Teyla for confirmation. "I'd like to try to tackle the problem at the source. If I can find and initialize the console and simply turn off the irradiation cycle, then Sheppard can take all the time he wants finding the exit, or we can go in and get him. It seems worth the risk."

"Agreed," Teyla said. "Ronon and I will continue to the exit and enter the tunnels if we need to."

"I'll stay in touch but don't wait. I may not find the right console, or the Monarkians may not let me near it. Getting Sheppard out in the next 45 minutes is still our best option."

Ronon answered by jerking his head in the affirmative then jogging away down the hall.

"Wait! Does he even know where to go?" Rodney asked Teyla who was about to join him.

"We saw the map on the last console. And you described its location. We will find it."

"Oh. Ok. Good luck."

And then Teyla was gone. Rodney watched them for a moment, then turned to Mieka. "Well? Let's move. Take me to where your grandson works."

Mieka bowed deferentially and led Rodney down another corridor. This time when he looked at the scanner, he was watching for three dots. Ironically, they almost merged at one point as Sheppard trudged many meters below the corridor that Teyla and Ronon ran along.

"Hang in there Sheppard," he thought as he followed Mieka around yet another bend. "One way or another, we're coming to help."

* * *

><p>John walked. The endless tunnel flowed under his feet like he was on a treadmill – only the ground a few feet ahead of him changed. He had no sense of how far or fast he was walking. It was like being in space, he decided, almost giggling at the thought. Except space was cold and he felt feverish. Or…maybe space was hot and he felt cold. He shivered, his teeth rattling a little, and he wished for his jacket. He'd only been wearing his vest and t-shirt when he was sent down here.<p>

He had a vague sense that he wasn't quite thinking straight. But when he explored the matter, he felt completely aware of himself. He knew where he was going and why. It was just so damn dark and he was so damn uncomfortable. His side ached, his shoulder throbbed. He found himself walking in a funny kind of lurching gait that favored his right side.

There were no more glowing spots on the walls, but the skritching of alien bug feet was almost constant. It made his skin crawl and every now and then he'd stop, shine the light at the ceiling to try to catch a glimpse of the critters, but there was always nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even glowing antenae. He couldn't shake the memory of another alien bug attaching itself around his neck and digging in, no matter how hard he pulled. He could almost feel the thing sucking life from him as he screamed and screamed.

"Sheppard!"

Rodney's shout pulled him from horrid daydreaming and he realized that his pulse was pounding and he was panting. His face was cold from drying sweat.

"I'm here, I'm here," he panted, desperate for air but fighting not to breathe too deeply.

"You have _got_ to keep walking." Rodney's voice wasn't whining or nagging and the cold command in the tone was more frightening than a dozen McKay rants.

"I am. I'm walking." Which was true. Now.

"That's better. Teyla and Ronon are working their way to the exit. You have another two kilometers to go. But you need to go faster. You need to keep walking. Hey, did they teach you any marching songs or something in soldier school?"

John rolled his eyes (which hurt a little. He also had a hell of a headache.) "Marching song?"

"You know - _Birdie, birdie in the sky - dropped some white wash in my eye - I don't complain and I don't cry - I'm just glad that cows can't fly_. Ford taught me that one once when I wasn't walking fast enough for him. Or was it that time we saw those birds as big as cows? I can't remember."

John snorted with laughter, more at Rodney's deadpan delivery than at the words, which he'd heard a million times. "It's called a cadence."

"So, you know any _cadences_?"

"Of course."

"Tell me one."

"Rodney…"

"No, seriously. I want to hear one."

John walked several steps thinking about his training days and how very young he was then. It was so long ago, but the words came like he'd marched them yesterday:

"_Irene, Irene, she's one of the best,_  
><em>and every night I give er' the test,<em>

_the moon was high, the lights were dim,_  
><em>and there she stood so slick and slim,<em>

_I rolled her over on her side,_  
><em>and on her back I also tried,<em>

_I wound her up as quick as I could,_  
><em>And when I got in er' I knew she was good,<em>

_Irene, Irene, she's sweet and true,_  
><em>she's a Sixty-G PaveHawk in the Search and Rescue<em>."

Rodney's chortle was genuine and John blushed, not having quite realized he was speaking the chant out loud. "That was good. And you're walking faster. Tell me another one."

John caught on, but the cadences did help. He found his feet walking in time to the rhythm, as they were meant to do, and concentrating on long-forgotten rhymes kept his mind off his aching side. Just as he was running out of cadences he could remember, Rodney butted in on John's monologue.

"Hang on Sheppard. Keep walking. You've got a little ways to go. Teyla and Ronon are waiting for you. I've got to concentrate here for a few minutes."

"Sure." Something was nagging at the back of John's mind. Something important about walking. Oh, right. Radioactive tunnels. "How long until the burst…radioactive blast thing…" he managed. Why was it he could remember the lyrics of a raunchy song from 20 years ago, but couldn't get the right word out?

"I'm working on that. You have twenty minutes and only a short way to go. Just keep walking."

"Twenty minutes?"

"KEEP WALKING!"

"Sheesh. I'm walking already."

But even in through the fog that was settling ever thicker over his mind and the cold ache that was settling into his body, he knew that he wasn't walking fast or far enough. Rodney's cajoling and bullying was taking on a desperate edge. What should have been a piece of cake was taking him too long. He couldn't seem to push his feet faster. He couldn't concentrate. A tickle of fear crept into his conscience. He wasn't going to make it.

* * *

><p>Rodney cajoled and bullied and talked John through the next kilometer and a half of the tunnel while skulking along the hallways of the outpost thirty feet above him. Mieka guided him with a strange look now and then as he talked, but without question. At last, the old man began to wave his arms around, seeking Rodney's attention and reluctantly, he closed the channel.<p>

"We are nearly there, but this corridor will be heavily populated at this time of day. It is a busy time for these techmasters."

"Can you bring your grandson here?"

Mieka bobbed his head, his eyes sparkling. "I will do so at once!" And in his eagerness, he was off around the corner before Rodney had really decided if that would be useful. He decided to check in with Teyla and Ronon.

"Teyla, I'm close to the control room. Have you made it to the tunnel exit?"

"We were just about to contact you. We have found the stairs that descend to the tunnels, but there is a security door blocking entrance to the tunnel itself. It either requires the ATA gene to access or there is another security protocol in place."

"I have c4," Ronon added, conveying both solution and method in those three words.

"Don't unless we have to!" Rodney hissed urgently. "We already know the tunnels are susceptible to collapse. It won't do Sheppard any good to open the door and bury the tunnel to it. Just…wait a few more minutes. I'll know more when I get my hands on the console. John can most likely open it from his side with the ATA gene."

He slapped the channel closed, feeling an even greater sense of panic. Just when Rodney was going to give up on the old man and march into the hallway, Monarkians be damned, Mieka rushed around the corner dragging a much younger man by the sleeve.

"Dr. McKay, this is my grandson Noalm."

Noalm had dark curly hair, was early twenties at best, and wore the just-almost-condescending smirk of youth humoring a relative.

"Good, good! Noalm, I'm looking for the control console for the waste disposal systems. We think it might be in the lab where you work. Are there any uninitialized consoles there or in the general area?"

The young man's face flashed surprise, then curiosity. "Uninitialized, no. But there are two that my technmaster claims are faulty. He has tried many times to gain knowledge from them, but though they come to life at his touch, they reveal no data."

"That could be anything," Rodney muttered to himself, but another tickle of worry fluttered in his chest. "How many people are in there right now?"

"Seven. Four techmasters and their servants. I am the eighth member of the team."

Rodney's heart sank even further. So much for just marching in the door. Ok, he'd have to take a page from Sheppard's book – create a distraction and lead the Monarkians away.

"You work for the water technmaster, right?" Noalm looked wary, but nodded. "Good, I need you to get him away from the console then key in a few commands exactly as I tell you."

Noalm's eyes went wide and he brought his hands up as if to ward off attack, "Touch the console? I cannot touch the console! I am un-lantean. I cannot command the technology of the Ancestors!"

"You can, and you will. Please Noalm," Rodney added when the young man's eyes went troubled. "Please, a man's life is at stake. My friend's life. Ask your grandfather."

"Dr. McKay is an honorable man as is Colonel Sheppard whose life is in danger because of me. We have been lied to by our own masters and so are forced into the service of strangers who speak truth. And if lofty politics are not a compelling argument for one so young, then please help simply because your Grandfather asks you. Because I owe a debt and need your help to repay it."

Mieka put a comforting hand on Noalm's shoulder who still looked terrified, but he nodded and lowered his hands. "What must I do?"

Rodney suppressed a sigh of relief, then felt a determined grin find his lips.

"You're going to make a lot of people think twice about pouring a glass of water."

* * *

><p>John had heard the scratching of invisible bug feet for so long, it took him a moment to realize that the scratching that was coming from just ahead was different somehow. When the new sound was repeated, John froze, shining his light as far down the tunnel as it would reach. There was only a suggestion of motion – subtle reflections off god knew what – but something definitely was moving.<p>

A jolt of adrenaline brought his heart to racing speed and he had to control his breath to avoid stabbing pains. Carefully, he twisted until he could unsnap the strap on his holster and draw the weapon with his left hand. It felt awkward, but he had trained with both hands and while his marksmanship wasn't quite as good with his left, he was a passable shot.

Step by step, he crept forward, his sidearm extended and the flashlight clenched in his immobilized right hand. For a long time, the flickers of movement and sounds stayed just outside of the light's range. John was almost feeling a little relieved that maybe the whatever-they-weres might just scurry on ahead for the rest of his walk.

He slowed down again, though, when a great hulking shadow loomed into view. Each step revealed more detail – it was shiny, it was domed like a great overturned metal salad bowl, it began to glow faintly after his light touched it, the first bioluminescent effect he'd seen since the cave-in. It also wasn't moving. At long last, he drew close enough to sweep his light over the whole…thing.

It was a shell. A monstrous beetle shell. The top of the dome rose to John's thighs. It appeared the creature that the shell had protected had been dead for some time. The glow came from moss that covered almost every inch of the hard shiny surface and John could see a hollow emptiness underneath one edge that curved off the slimy floor. The scritching, however, seemed to be coming from inside the hollow dome.

Pulling in a slow breath, then holding it, he tucked his toe under the raised edge of the shell and kicked it over. It was surprisingly heavy and he groaned when the unexpected effort pinched his sore side. It was also full of bugs. Dozens of the large cockroach things and baby dome-shelled beetles burst out and scattered in all directions.

John jumped back, startled and disgusted. Within seconds, however, there was no longer a trace of any of them and the large shell lay gently rocking on its back, empty. Suppressing a shudder, John edged around the shell and forced himself to keep moving. He had to keep moving. The incident had at least cleared his head a little and increased his urgency.

He pushed his pace until his lungs felt like he was inhaling broken glass. The light bounced ahead of him, but he was moving faster and he saw vast numbers of bugs scattering out of his way as he moved. They were all different sizes, from hand sized cockroaches to dome-beetles the size of his head. Even the larger ones moved exceptionally fast to avoid the touch of his light. Piles of discarded shells glowed eerily against the tunnel walls and John soon found himself kicking them aside, they were strewn so thickly along the tunnel floor.

"Rodney!" he called at last, near-panic rising as the evidence of large bug population continued to grow. "How far am I from the damn exit?!"

"You're… you're doing great, John, just keep walking."

"How far?"

"500 meters."

John stopped walking.

"How long?"

"Five minutes. John you can make it. Please, just keep walking."

But John didn't move. 500 meters in five minutes was nothing. A piece of cake. Even with broken ribs he had a shot at it. His light shivered as his hand trembled at the shadow that was looming out of the black nothingness ahead of him. He took a step backwards, and then another.

A huge dome beetle, almost as tall as John's hips scuttled forward, then stopped and clicked menacing pincer claws, then scuttled forward again.

"Rodney, I think it's going to take longer than 5 minutes to reach the exit."

"Why?!" There was a note of panic in Rodney's voice now, too.

"Because, first I have to get past the biggest freakin bug I've ever seen in my life."

"I'm sending Ronon and Teyla in to help."

"No! If I don't have time to make it out, they won't either. There's no point in getting all of us fried."

"John…"

"No, Rodney. That's an order. I'll let you know when I'm on the move again."

John took the silence that answered as acquiescence. He aimed his sidearm at the approaching monster and stifled a shudder.

"Let's see what you've got, big guy."

* * *

><p>Rodney was still chuckling when he entered the control room after Noalm's sabotage had sent the whole pack of Monarkians pelting for the living quarters that were now spewing purple sludge-water into sinks, showers, and toilets. The young man had followed his techmaster dutifully to attend to the emergency, but he had thrown his Grandfather a small wry grin of satisfaction as he ran past their hiding place.<p>

He was no longer smiling a moment later when he took in the state of the console he wanted. Not only was it faulty as the Monarkian techmasters had suspected – several keys were dark and the cable that connected it to the outpost's central node was missing entirely – but the few functions he could access were password protected.

He looked at his watch. Sheppard had ten minutes and was making steady, if slow, progress but it was going to be tight. Rodney needed to stop the irradiation cycle from running if John didn't make it and make sure the door would open if he did make it.

"Mieka, pull that cable from the other dark console and attach it in exactly the same way to this one," Rodney bellowed, not caring that Mieka wasn't a technician or answered to Rodney in any way. Mieka scuttled to obey, however, a look of wonder on his face. When the old man had completed that task, Rodney started barking instructions for how to test the connection while he concentrated on breaking the console's encryption.

"Rodney! How far am I from the damn exit?!"

Rodney looked at his hand scanner for the first time in several minutes and fought to keep the concern out of his voice. Ronon said not to badger him, but John sounded terrible. "You're… you're doing great, John, just keep walking."

"How far?"

"500 meters."

"How long?"

"Five minutes. John you can make it. Please, just keep walking."

Five minutes and Rodney was no closer to cracking the code than he'd been five minutes ago. Rodney's head spun with scenarios but there were too many variables to make any accurate predictions. Could John open the door from his side? Would c4 collapse the tunnel? John's reply broke his frantic spinning.

"Rodney, I think it's going to take longer than 5 minutes to reach the exit." John sounded resigned and more tired, more weak than Rodney had ever heard him sound.

"Why?!" There was a note of panic in Rodney's voice now, too.

"Because, first I have to get past the biggest freakin bug I've ever seen in my life."

Rodney sucked in a sharp breath of sympathetic terror. That was a variable that shifted some priorities. "I'm sending Ronon and Teyla in to help." Rodney would risk the damn C4. Nobody deserved to face the universe's biggest freakin bug alone.

"No! If I don't have time to make it out, they won't either. There's no point in getting all of us fried."

"John…" Rodney hated it when John was right about things like…that.

"No, Rodney. That's an order. I'll let you know when I'm on the move again."

Rodney couldn't answer. He just turned back to the console and redoubled his efforts to break the encryption preventing him from performing the simplest stupidest task. "Come on!" he roared as he switched to yet another algorithm. Mieka watched with deep concern etched in his creased face.

"You seek the key?" he asked at last.

"Key? What key? I'm trying to break the password that's preventing me from accessing the waste disposal control routines. If I can't get in, John is toast." He slammed his fists against the glowing crystals in frustration.

"I have seen it entered many times. May I?" Mieka asked hesitantly.

"You've seen…what?" Rodney finally gave the old servant his full attention.

"They key. Many consoles require a key before use. Techmasters must memorize many that have been learned with great difficulty over many generations."

"You know the password?" Rodney finally processed the man's words.

"I know many keys from long years of serving, but I cannot promise any will unlock this console."

"Do it. Try them all. Without my tablet and even with it, it would take too long to decrypt or guess."

Rodney stepped aside and Mieka took his place. He lifted wrinkled hands to the controls and hesitated, a look of fear on his face. But before Rodney could intervene, confidence replaced fear and the servant began to punch in long sequences of keys. One after another, almost as if by touch or muscle memory rather than any numeric memory.

One minute passed, then another and the man's keystrokes came slower. A flash on the screen hanging over their console brought Rodney's heart to full speed.

"That's it! You did it!"

He shoved Mieka aside and frantically began to call up and initialize the programs that controlled the waste systems and the tunnel irradiation protocols. "There!" he cried when he finally, _finally_ found the subroutines that powered the tunnel's sterilization sequence. He pulled up the command line, read the logs. He read it again, checked his watch, then against all logic read it one more time. A cold numbness sank into his chest.

"Sheppard! Come in. Can you answer? Sheppard!" There was no answer, just static, which only intensified the knot in his gut. "Teyla, Ronon, I'm opening the door to the tunnel. You've got to get to Sheppard as soon as possible!"

Rodney slammed his hands into the console to unlock the tunnel doors. At least it had been worth coming here for that – the doors _were_ secured from entry even by "lanteans".

"Of course," Teyla's voice was charged with concern. "But Rodney, when will the radiation cycle engage?"

"That's the problem." Rodney sank into a chair and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "It already did."


	3. Chapter 3

John eyed the giant beetle while he loosened the sling to free his arm should he need both hands mobile. He had to grit his teeth when the weight and motion tugged on the torn muscle and bone that had the last hour to get nice and swollen.

As if the monster sensed his weakness, it scuttled several feet closer and thrust out no fewer than eight scaly arms, two of which had pincers the size of tree shears. With its shell balanced on its hideous back, it looked like some nightmare version of a hermit crab. John backpedaled wondering how the hell he was going to get past it.

When it lunged forward again, John fired, almost out of frustration. The bullet went high and bounced off the thick shell and sparked against the tunnel wall at least twice. John ducked and winced, taking a mental note to aim more carefully. He continued to retreat and the creature continued to lunge. John's feet kicked aside empty shells as he scuffed backwards.

He didn't have time for a standoff. Fearing the results if he missed, John took careful aim (this time) and fired three rounds into what he hoped was the softer flesh of the creature's legs and thorax. Two of the rounds sparked harmlessly against equally armored legs and chest-plate, but the third seemed to strike more sensitive tissue right where the shell joined the thing's body. It jerked at the impact, then reared up in a soundless roar, claws extended and clicking coldly in the damp air.

It lunged again, faster than before and John backpedaled. His foot twisted on an upturned shell and in the fraction of a second it took to regain his balance, the enormous dome-beetle smashed into him, knocking him backward to land hard against the slimy floor. The flashlight flew a few feet away, still casting a blue-white glow against the wall.

John screamed out a cry of anguish as broken shoulder and ribs were jolted, then yelled a hoarse cry of terror as he flung up his good left arm to ward off the pincer that stabbed down from above towards his exposed chest. He managed to knock the appendage aside and it scraped a long furrow of slime off the concrete beside his left ear. The other pincer stabbed and screaming in pain and defiance, John knocked it aside as well with his right arm, the broken shoulder screaming its own protest.

Before it could stab again, John tucked his knees and kicked hard with both feet against the underbelly of the beetle, hoping to fling it away. He only managed to lift its heavy front half off the ground. Its legs flailed wildly, seeking purchase it could not find, and the pincers jabbed at John's face and chest. He batted each strike away, realizing the creature's strength was vertical, up and down only, and he had the advantage by being able to push the claws to either side. At least he would have had the advantage without a broken shoulder that was rapidly losing the ability to move at all.

For a long moment, John panted, legs quivering and shoulder screaming in a deathly stalemate. He finally realized that the hand he kept pushing the left claw away still, miraculously, held his sidearm. Bracing himself, John gave a tremendous heave with his feet, and almost kicked the beetle vertical. Its eight-plus arms waved frantically before it began to topple back down, almost slowly, on top of John. As it fell, John unloaded the Beretta into the thing's belly, aiming as much as he could for the places where it connected to the shell.

Sparks and pings of ricochet filled the tunnel with roaring sound. A white-hot line of fire scored his left thigh and then the thing crashed down upon him, smashing him into the concrete and pinning him tightly to the cold, wet floor. For a long moment, John lay panting, his eyes screwed shut against the screaming pain in his side and leg and shoulder.

But the beetle didn't jab at him. Nor did it move at all. With relief came resignation. He was firmly pinned, the bulk of the beast covering him completely. He couldn't look at his watch, but he knew he was out of time. It didn't matter. Even if he could claw his way free, he'd never make the exit in time. Shock and pain and something else that had been on the edges of awareness – a kind of intoxicated dullness – pulled John deeper into lethargy. The last thing he saw before he passed out was a strange blue glow that lit the small stripe of floor he could see and then nothing.

* * *

><p>"Ronon, hurry," Teyla urged as she followed him down the steps into ever colder darkness. She drew her flashlight when the glow from the warm civilized outpost above faded completely. Ronon also had his light out, but in her haste, she still slipped slid on the stairs that were growing damp and slimy.<p>

"Would the radiation harm him immediately?" She asked as she prodded Ronon even faster. She had learned about radiation poisoning from their encounters with the Genii and was grasping at the hope that Jennifer and Carson could perform their magic and help John even after having been exposed.

"The blast is designed to kill critters that might enter and breed in the tunnel but it's not radiation in the literal sense. It's more like microwaves, targeted to destroy cell tissue. Anything alive down there would be, um, exploded at the cellular level."

Ronon slammed his palms into the door at the bottom of the steps in frustration. It swung open with a satisfying bang.

"Which way?" Ronon growled.

"Turn left. Oh, and watch out for really big bugs. John said he had to pass one just before we lost…contact."

"You said life would be destroyed," Teyla choked out the words through a throat that had clenched tight at Rodney's pronouncement of doom. She swept her light across the tunnel that was littered with strange debris that looked like hundreds of bowls of all sizes. She jumped and pressed into Ronon's reassuring bulk when one of the bowls began shoving its way through the others with a scratching scuffle. "There are many bug shells and some are still alive."

"Even the Ancients couldn't plan 10,000 years in advance for evolution. Perhaps some of the indigenous arthropods adapted to the microwaves." Rodney snapped the retort sounding angry, but Teyla knew after so many years that the anger was the valve for grief and worry.

She pressed on, kicking aside shells and surrounded by the ominous, ever-present skritching of claws. It seemed like the tunnel grew even blacker as they walked further from the exit, like the darkness was devouring their light rather than surrounding it.

"How far?" she demanded of Rodney when the dark seemed to begin squeezing her very heart. How had John traveled so far in this nightmare?

"You're close. Do you see anything?"

"There!" Ronon pointed and shielded his flashlight at the same time. Far ahead, a faint dim glow splashed against the shiny slick wall of the tunnel, just past a meandering turn.

"John!" she called, hearing the ragged plea in her voice. There was no answer, but she was already running towards the light, Ronon's surprisingly light steps just behind her. She was just about to complete the curve when Ronon jerked her to a halt by the arm.

"Wait!" he rasped and she swallowed anger to look at the place his weapon was drawn and pointing at. A huge, shiny bowl creature lay centered in the tunnel, it's gleaming onyx shell reflecting the fading light of the flashlight that lay discarded against the tunnel wall.

For a long moment, they stood frozen, but the creature made no movement. Ronon twitched and Teyla watched his lips curl into a snarl of impatience. She jumped when he next howled a cry of challenge and charged the creature, leaping forward several large steps with his arms wide. It didn't even twitch.

"Is it dead?" Teyla demanded.

"Looks like it."

They approached cautiously, their weapons steady on the hulking bulk of the creature. When Teyla reached the light, she bent down to pick it up, feeling her throat tighten again. "It's John's."

"Sheppard!" Ronon bellowed. Only echoes answered.

"Perhaps he ran the other way when he encountered the beast."

"The radiation killed it?"

Teyla shook her head, fearing to admit the notion. If the radiation had killed such a powerful thing, how could John have survived.

"Well? What did you find," Rodney shouted into the radio and Teyla heard the fear in his voice. "You're standing right where I lost John. Lost contact with John." The correction and anguish in Rodney's voice caused Teyla's eyes to burn. She was grateful when Ronon answered.

"We found Sheppard's flashlight and a really big dead bug. No sign of Sheppard though."

Teyla blinked and looked away to regain her composure. Something on the wall caught her attention and she shined her light at the spot grateful for any distraction. "There are marks on the wall." She stepped closer. "Bullet impacts! John fought the creature and several bullets hit the walls."

Ronon edged past the shell and shone his light at the opposite face of the dome. "There are bullet scores here, too. John definitely shot at the thing. It's thick, though. Didn't even hardly scratch it."

"We should search further down the tunnel."

Teyla turned her back on the bug to shine her light further down the endless empty space, momentarily overwhelmed by visions of John, alone, fighting the monster behind her. Ronon just nodded and stepped past, leading the way. She stood a heartbeat longer, then threw her shoulders back to steel herself.

A low, murmuring hum stopped her. "Ronon! Listen!" she hissed. Ronon stopped and turned, perplexity bordering on annoyance written in his face. Then he, too, heard the strange sound. It wasn't regular, like a fan or motor, the monotone rose and fell in weak fits and starts. It would pause for long moments, then hum again. It was difficult to pinpoint location in the echoing tunnel, but Teyla spun to face the bug, certain at least it came from that general direction.

"Is it alive after all?" she whispered.

Ronon's expression went feral. "We should kill it if it is."

He strolled to the hump of a shell and aimed his energy gun at it, his expression vindictive.

"Wait!"

Teyla crouched at his ankles, listening hard.

"It's coming from underneath! Ronon! Lift it off! Move it aside!"

Ronon chuffed, but did as asked. It took both of them to grab the edge of the monstrous shell and flip it down the tunnel towards the exit. A tangle of limp legs flopped as it crashed onto its back and rocked.

Underneath, sprawled on his back with his legs twisted to the side and his left arm – still clutching his weapon – John lay muttering and thrashing his head weakly from side to side.

"John!" Teyla cried and dropped to her knees beside him, fear and hope and relief and worry all crowding her heart. "Rodney, we found him. He's alive but unconscious."

"Found him… alive?" Rodney spoke slowly, as if hesitant to believe.

"He was underneath a very large bug creature. He seems to have killed it but was pinned underneath."

"The bug! He was under a bug? Is it heavily armored bug? Of course it is! Sheppard, you're a genius! The bug protected him from the microwaves like it's protected the bug its whole life. I'm on my way. Mieka is gathering help and will meet me there. I knew that man had some trick up his sleeve. No wonder he was so nonchalant."

Rodney continued to mutter and rejoice, but Teyla focused her attention on John. Worry was quickly winning the competition for her emotions. John thrashed and muttered again, but there was no deliberation. She patted his cheek and his eyes flew open briefly, then closed again with renewed muttering.

"He's bleeding," Ronon announced, and set to work to bind the gouge along John's left thigh he had discovered. John's pants were damp from blood and slime and the damp moisture of the tunnels. He shivered as Ronon gently lifted the leg to slip a binding around it.

Teyla was observing John carefully. He wore his belt around one shoulder and recognized an attempt at a sling. She prodded the arm that it would support, starting at the wrist. When she reached the shoulder, John jerked in his sleep and cried out softly. Tears welled when Teyla pulled down the collar of his shirt and saw the dark bruise and inflamed skin along his shoulder and collar bone.

"He has either a broken arm or broken collar bone," she announced. "Ah…and badly bruised side." John twitched and whimpered again when she probed the blackened skin underneath his shirt and vest she had uncovered. "Very likely broken ribs. His breath is raspy." She looked up, shocked.

"Ronon, these are old wounds. He received these wounds before he began his journey."

Ronon's chuff was part sympathy, part pride. "I take it back, John," he murmured to his friend. "You should have told us. I would have fought ten monster bugs for you."

John just sucked in a rattling breath, then began muttering again. "_Mission top secret, destination unknown, we don't give a damn if we ever get home. Get home. Home._"

"What is he saying?" Ronon asked, bemused.

"I do not know. He is delirious and in shock. He needs to get to Atlantis."

She spent the next several minutes binding John's shoulder with the sling he had already crafted and attempting to immobilize the damaged ribs, all of which seemed to cause him great pain. When she couldn't stand to cause him more discomfort, she contented herself with wrapping him in a thermal sheet pulled from her own vest, hoping to ease the shudders that were beginning to wrack his body.

She began to tug a second sheet out when John's teeth rattled and then he coughed, leaving flecks of blood on his lips. Teyla threw Ronon a fearful look.

"I'll go find Rodney and bring him here," he answered and then he was gone.

"Hold on, John. We are taking you home. You are safe." She reached for his hand as he continued to shudder. "Hold on."

* * *

><p>Rodney raced for the opposite side of the outpost, no longer caring if Monarkians saw him. He had his gun. Let them try to stop him.<p>

He was no longer quite so confident, however, when two security thugs strolled out of a crossway only a few corridors from the stairwell to the tunnel and recognized him.

"You there," one of them grunted.

"Stop and stand for questioning. Lord Ashran left orders for you to be detained, then escorted off the outpost."

"Yeah, well, I'm leaving, that's for sure. I just have to meet my friends first." Rodney tried to bluster his way past, then raised his arms when the men moved towards him instead. "I mean, I'll be happy to leave. Please, just let me go meet my friends first."

One of the thugs chortled and reached for Rodney's shoulders. Rodney gritted his teeth and felt his face flush with anger. He jerked away from the guard's touch and thrust his hand towards his holster. The second guard dove for his own weapon and Rodney wrestled his gun out, hoping he could get the thing raised before the guard either stunned him or hit him with the gun. In the end they thrust their weapons out at the same time in an uneasy stalemate.

"I just want to find my friends and leave this horrid place," Rodney ground out. He sounded pretty fierce if he did say so himself.

"And you will let him!" exclaimed a loud voice at Rodney's right elbow. To his shock, Mieka and several other Monarkian servants surrounded them, wielding metal pipes and other non-technical – but sufficiently threatening –weapons. Rodney grinned as the guards went nervous. At more gestures of aggression, the security men lowered their weapons and raised their hands, though their expressions were belligerent.

"Ashran will hear of your disobedience," one snarled.

"But not until our friends are safely offworld," retorted Mieka, grim but determined. "Dr. McKay, please continue. My friends will ensure that these men do not delay your departure."

Rodney threw a grateful nod to the old servant and continued towards the tunnel. Mieka's group split, half followed Rodney, the other surrounded the guards.

When he reached the stairs, his heart was racing from more than exertion. John had beat the odds and found a way to escape the tunnel sterilization procedure. But Teyla had sounded very concerned. Rodney kept hearing John's raspy voice and distracted rambling.

Ronon met him at the bottom of the stairs and urged Rodney into the tunnel. It took all his willpower to walk into the pitch black, bug infested, mold and disease ridden dungeon. When he reached Sheppard, he still wasn't sure he wanted to be where he was. His friend was wrapped in thin silver sheets. John was pale and seemed to be unconscious, though he muttered and thrashed.

Rodney knelt, then shared a look of deep concern with Teyla. She quickly took charge of the volunteers and soon John was wrapped onto a stretcher that Mieka's men had brought. Rodney stood and watched, feeling useless. When four servants lifted John to carry him out of the tunnel, the sick man squirmed and fought the restraints, muttering continually.

Rodney stepped close to adjust the litter, then leaned closer, curious about what his delusional friend found so interesting to say in his somnambulant state.

"_If I die in a combat zone, box me up and ship me home, put my wings up on my chest, and bury me in the leaning rest…_" The words were breathy, disconnected, but Rodney smiled, though it was rueful.

"Has he lost hope?" Teyla whispered as the Monarkian servants gently carried him away. She had clearly heard the same words as Rodney. Rodney chuckled.

"No. The opposite. It's a _cadence_. A marching chant that is tradition of Earth military training. To keep you going and to help you stay focused. He's fighting. He's still fighting."

Teyla nodded, relieved. "Then let us join the battle and take him home as his tradition speaks of."

"Agreed." He waved on the group and waited until they'd made their way past the terrifying dead bug. "We'll let you rest Sheppard. But you get to skip the box," Rodney whispered to himself, watching his friend go. He looked around at the gloomy, slimy tunnel. "This time."

* * *

><p>Epilogue:<p>

John was bored. Bored, bored, _bored_. He thumped his thumbs on his laptop. He'd watched every movie that Rodney had pirated for him and he didn't feel like working. His ribs and shoulder were still sore, and Jennifer had reminded about the dangers of a punctured lung so many times, that he didn't feel like getting up and exercising, either. When Rodney appeared at the infirmary door, John found himself actually looking forward to a lecture on Ancient waste disposal systems – which is what he'd gotten an earful of the last two times the man had visited.

"Hey! Look who's looking bright-eyed and bushy tailed. Our favorite flushed turtle."

Rodney chortled at his own joke and John just sighed. The whole "getting dumped in the trash disposal" was going to last a while, he realized.

"Turtles don't have bushy tails," John stated firmly in the only retort that had a chance of distracting his pedantic friend.

Rodney just waved away the inconsistency which told John he was in a very good mood. "What's got you so happy?"

"Mieka just contacted Atlantis."

"He OK? That Ashran guy was pretty ticked at me and the other servants who tried to help me while they were, um, you know."

"Punching you silly and shoving you into the trash can. I know. Mieka's quite the political activist, though. He seems to have organized a labor movement and they have gotten Ashran to agree to negotiations. They want us to mediate. Apparently Ashran was 'impressed' at our ability to work so congenially with un-lanteans and asked for us specifically."

"He's a piece of work."

"Well, Woolsey is sending a delegation."

"Tell them good luck. And that I won't be seeing them anytime soon."

Rodney grinned and made as if to go, but John reached out a hand, hesitated, then decided to let it go. Rodney noticed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Seriously. What? You want me to bring you something?"

"No. Um, yes actually, some magazines from my room, but that's not my question. I was just wondering..." he trailed off, scrubbed the back of his head until Rodney threw an annoyed "get on with it shrug".

"I was wondering what happened after they threw me, you know."

"Into the tunnel?"

"Yeah. Right! I remember a tunnel. It was really dark and wet and...it glowed?" John's memory was very fuzzy. He remembered flashes of being cold and in pain and of strange scratching noises. The pieces were driving him crazy – becoming more frightening because he couldn't fit them together.

Rodney hitched his hip on the edge of John's bed. "You don't remember?"

"Not much."

"Wow. Well, Jennifer did say that you were pretty high on mold."

"I was...what?!"

"That tunnel was two inches deep in slime mold. The spores, especially in that concentration, when inhaled act something like an intoxicant. We could tell your responses were off. It was hell to keep you moving in the right direction. Or to keep moving at all."

"I walked around down there?"

"Almost three miles. You were injured, pretty badly it turns out, but you managed to not only nearly make it out yourself, you fought off the biggest dung beetle I've ever seen. Almost four feet tall and five in diameter."

"I fought... a giant bug?"

"Yeah. You should probably make up a good story about that. Rumors are getting around. The things underside was shredded with bullets, so you must have gotten it to expose itself and then unloaded. Then you crawled underneath to protect yourself from the microwave sterilization burst. That was really very clever."

"Oh, of course. I remember that part," John lied. He rarely saw admiration on Rodney's face and he wasn't going to waste it when he saw it. He had vague memories, after being reminded, of pincers jabbing at his face and of a heavy body falling on him. He apparently owed that dead bug his life.

Rodney smirked, but let it go. "Right. Just have your story ready for when you get out of here."

"I will. I mean, I'll remember by then."

"See that you do. Later, Sheppard."

Again, Rodney turned to go. John was suddenly flooded with vague, but strong, memories of walking in the dark as Rodney urged him on. "Hey," John called, holding Rodney back one last time. "I remember a little more. And, you know, thanks."

"For what?"

"For...talking to me. Keeping me going."

"Oh." Rodney smirked. "No problem. I just wish I'd known about the mold spores. I could have gotten a lot more dirt out of you than some bawdy chants."

"Come again?"

"Never mind. I'm just glad you're better. See you around, soon."

He left hastily, as if afraid John would call him back again. John leaned back into his pillows and tried to get comfortable. Broken ribs were the worst. He wouldn't sleep properly until they'd healed. As he dozed he tried to remember more about walking in the dark and fighting giant bugs.

All he could get were flashes and feelings, mostly of dark and fear. As he drifted off, however, an old marching cadence floated into his head for some strange reason.

_The Air Force Colors_  
><em>The color is red<em>  
><em>To show the world<em>  
><em>The blood we shed<em>

_The Air Force Colors_  
><em>The color is white<em>  
><em>To show the world<em>  
><em>That we can fight<em>

_The Air Force Colors_  
><em>The color is blue<em>  
><em>To show the world<em>  
><em>That we are true<em>

_The Air Force Colors_  
><em>Red, White, and Blue<em>  
><em>To show the world<em>  
><em>That we'd die for you<em>

_The Air Force Colors_  
><em>Are at their best<em>  
><em>When they work with the others<em>  
><em>On Atlantis<em>

He sank into sleep with one last thought: Where in the hell had that last verse come from?

* * *

><p>Thanks to the Holiday Exchange for kicking another story out of me! Thank you all who continue to read SGA!<p> 


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